The wooden stool in our living room

Morwenna

Long ago a tree grew strong, tall and straight.

Its hard wood was nourished by the land,

African land, Sukumaland, Tanzania.

 

Tanzania, my childhood home.

 

The tree was felled.

A slice of the trunk was cut, carefully,

Ready for a skilled and practised Msukuma

To carve, from the single piece of wood,

A low round seat, suitable for a chief

To be seated, just a handsbreadth higher than his people.

 

The wooden stool was presented to my Dad.

It was low seat where he used to rest,

Relax, be comfortable, at ease,

In our new home in Europe,

Sevenoaks, Kent, England.

 

England, my teenage home.

 

Now the wooden stool is in my living room

Here in Edinburgh, Scotland.

I love the gold and black age-rings

On its polished surface.

They are like the wrinkles on my aging face,

Which is smiling, as I remember my Dad.

  • Author: Morwenna (Offline Offline)
  • Published: June 22nd, 2022 04:39
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 10
Get a free collection of Classic Poetry ↓

Receive the ebook in seconds 50 poems from 50 different authors


Comments +

Comments4

  • Blueledge

    You describe the passage of time well.
    You can pass the seat down to the next generation.

  • Morwenna

    Thank you - and yes of course I'd like too....they are all in Australia though. It's a migrating family.

  • Saxon Crow

    Lovely piece here Morwenna. I love the history of such a simple thing. Great stuff.

  • Morwenna

    Thank you.



To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.